


i'm at a party and i don't know anybody (please pick me up)

by netherfriends



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I REGRET NOTHING, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Panic Attacks, Party, Protective Wilbur Soot, Scared TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), he really just wants peace for his little bro, like he's at a party in an angst fic there's booze, nothing really bad though, slight harassing, teenagers being assholes, tommyinnit is not having a good time, whoo look i'm so creative making tommy angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherfriends/pseuds/netherfriends
Summary: He doesn't know what he wants, he's just so lonely. In this crowd of drunk teenagers grinding against each other, he's lonely. He doesn't- he doesn't want to be here. He's like a sore thumb in the crowd, a sober guy towering over everyone easily. He's uncomfortable and contempt and god he just wants to go home-Why is he even here? He doesn't remember, one of his friends might've dragged him here.Tommy doesn't like parties, he's told his friends that many times. They don't ever seem to register his discomfort though. It makes him sick.ORauthor is very original, by using tommy to create angst
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 345





	i'm at a party and i don't know anybody (please pick me up)

**Author's Note:**

> and you all wonder if i'll ever stop writing wilbur soot and tommyinnit fluff and the answer is no :)

_I've got a problem_

_You're the problem_ , his mind supplies helpfully.

He doesn't know what he wants, he's just so _lonely_. In this crowd of drunk teenagers grinding against each other, he's lonely. He doesn't- he doesn't want to be _here_. He's like a sore thumb in the crowd, a sober guy towering over everyone easily. He's uncomfortable and contempt and _god_ he just wants to go home-

Why is he even here? He doesn't remember, one of his friends might've dragged him here.

Tommy doesn't like parties, he's told his friends that many times. They don't ever seem to register his discomfort though. It makes him sick.

Where is the front door? He wants _out_. Everyone is pushing against him and it's making his heart rate sky rocket. Please, he just wants to leave. In the corner of his eye, he can see a girl on a guy's shoulder, being passed red solo cups filled with sloshing liquid. She's obviously drunk, and putting each cup on the blade of the fan and- _fuck_ \- he hates this-

Tommy quickly scrambles, trying to get out of the room. He's too late though, when they start up the fan. People laugh, as liquid flies through the air. 

_Alcohol._

He nearly throws up, but he shoves it down. Now's not the time.

Finally, _finally_ he manages to get out of the crowded main area. He doesn't know who's house this is, but it's big and empty. He can't find the front door, as he stumbles through the house with the smell of booze clinging to his shirt. The halls have no one, seems as though everyone's filtered out to the main room. It clears his head, if only slightly. All those people were starting to stress him out.

Does he have his phone on him? He checks and yup, he does. Good, good. He could call someone. But who?

His parents are out of the question, he really doesn't want to explain why he snuck out. He knows that they'll be more disappointed than angry, and that's something that he cannot deal with right now.

After a while of searching for the front door, to no avail, he settles into an empty bathroom. The music is still going strong, but it's muffled due to the distance.

With shaky hands, Tommy pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts, trying to read the names with his blurry vision. He stops on a name.

_Wilbur._

He could, this person's house was considerably closer to Wilbur. He'd only have to go for an hour in this hell before being picked up. And besides, he really _really_ needed to get out, and if getting scolded by Wilbur was how that was going to happen, then so be it.

He pressed his thumb against the name, and held the phone up to his ear. As it rung, Tommy silently hoped that the older man wouldn't answer.

Despite his wishes, there was the distinct sound of someone picking up the phone.

"..'Ello?" Fuck, he just woke Wilbur up, this was a bad idea. This was a horrible, shitty idea.

"I'm sorry Will, did I wake you up? Shit, I'll just hang up it's fine-" _Don't hang up, don't hang up you need him you need to get out-_

"No, no, Tommy what's wrong?" He sounded more awake now, and more worried too.

Tommy tugged at his lip, "I-I- fuck Wilbur I'm scared, I don't- I don't wanna be here." Why's he stuttering? He thought he got over that years ago.

His palm was bleeding, he realized. His left one. How did that happen? Maybe it was when he accidentally smashed his hand onto a broken beer bottle. He hadn't realized then.

"Hey, I need you to explain what's happening." There was shuffling on the other end, like Wilbur was getting up.

"I'm at a party and I hate parties- I didn't wanna go, I didn't- and all I can smell is alcohol- Will I'm bleeding-" He was crying now, fat blobs of liquid dribbling down his cheeks. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard that the taste of iron filled his mouth.

"Okay, okay. Just stay calm, I'll be there soon."

"Don't hang up." He had no idea what'd he do if he had to sit alone in this bathroom waiting for Wilbur.

There was a small sound on the other line, "I won't, I won't."

His hand was shaking, really bad. In a couple moments he might drop the phone, which he didn't want. Not now, not when he _needed_ that reassurance. He placed the phone on the white tiled floor, pressing the speaker button.

With that done Tommy felt himself relax, if only slightly.

He wondered how Wilbur knew where Tommy was until he remembered that he had his location services on.

It was pretty pathetic, how the great TommyInnit was reduced to a crying mess just because he couldn't handle going to a party.

"Can you hold on a little longer, Toms. I'm almost there." Tommy only hummed, curling in on himself.

There were footsteps outside his door, and laughing. His blood ran cold.

"Wilbur-" The door slammed open, revealing a couple of teenagers. They were drunk, and it made Tommy even more sick.

"Shit, didn't know someone was in here."

Tommy shrunk away from them, like some sort of wounded animal.

One of the boys cracked a grin, "Dude, were you crying?"

He couldn't respond, his throat ran dry. 

"He totally was!" They cackled, and Tommy tried to focus on something else- _anything_ else-

They stepped closer, and now they were crowding him in this small bathroom- he didn't do well in small spaces god dammit- he caught sight of his phone, and heard Wilbur talking.

One of them stepped on the phone, cutting off the sound of Wilbur's voice.

No no no no nonono _no_ \- he needed Wilbur _god dammit_ \- he gathered the pieces of the phone in his hand, watching dully as it cut at his skin. Tears began to prick his eyes again, and started falling down his face.

He couldn't _breathe_ \- why couldn't he breathe-

He was hyperventilating, god dammit.

"Look at him! This is hilarious!" One of them leaned close up to his face, and the smell of alcohol on his breath made Tommy shriek and turn his head and vomit. This caused the group to let out 'ew's' and back away.

"Gross!"

_He was gross._

This didn't feel right, it didn't feel right. He could see someone push past the group, and could see the hands shaking him, but he couldn't feel it. He felt like he wasn't truly connected to his body.

"-ommy! Can you hear me!?" Tommy blinked up at the panicked figure of Wilbur Soot, before promptly breaking down.

Wilbur pulled him into his lap, and Tommy clutched his shirt desperately. 

"Will- Will- _Will_ -" A hand rubbing circles into his back, and he relaxed.

"I'm here bud, I'm here."

Tommy shakily exhaled, trying to focus on the fact that Wilbur was _here_.

"Toms, we need to get up."

A hand patted at his head, a request to release his grip on him, but he didn't care.

"Can't."

There was a sigh, before he was being hoisted up in the air. He was moved, and now he dropped his head on Wilbur's shoulder. The position was slightly awkward, mainly because Tommy was tall, but they made it work.

Tommy watched the scene from behind Wilbur, arms clutched around his neck. It didn't seem like that long before he was being gently placed into the passenger seat of a car.

When Wilbur climbed into the driver's seat, Tommy grabbed his hand. There was no response, no whine or taunt, just Wilbur squeezing his hand across the center console. It made Tommy feel better.

He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, they were still moist with the tears clinging to his eye lashes. 

The drive back was silent, mostly filled with Tommy staring out the window and watching the cars pass by. It was late at night, so the only thing his mind could register were blurry bright red lights.

It was long, bur Tommy didn't really notice it. 

Finally, they pulled into Wilbur's flat. Tommy stared blankly at the place, before Wilbur patted his hand and got out. He gave no reaction, other than a slightly panicked whine. 

Wilbur opened his car door, and Tommy stumbled outside, leaning on Wilbur for support as they entered the place. All of this was done without saying a word. 

Tommy slipped off his shoes and coat, wrinkling his nose at the smell of alcohol. He hoped that won't stain.

"I'll be right back." Tommy slumped onto the ground next to the couch, the only indication he heard him being the nod he gave.

Without the presence of the other man, he was cold. He didn't like that, he didn't like that at all. He wrapped himself in a hug, as though that would be a sort of comfort to him. (It wasn't.)

Wilbur returned, holding a med kit and a sweater. He sat down next to Tommy, opening up the white case.

"Hand." Tommy held out his palm, grimacing at the dried blood. 

Wilbur cleaned at the cut, before pouring some rubbing alcohol on a puff ball.

"This might sting."

Tommy winced, but didn't mind much.

After that was done, Wilbur wrapped his cut. Once down, Tommy poked at the bandages, only stopping when Wilbur gave him a look.

"Change out of that shirt, it stinks." He was handed the sweater in Wilbur's hands, and made his way into the bathroom to change. He was right, his shirt did stink. Quickly discarding his alcohol stained shirt for the sweater (it smelled like Wilbur). It made him feel warmer, even though the sleeves slipped past his hands.

When he made his way downstairs, Wilbur was on the couch, presumably waiting for him.

"Distraction or talk?"

"Distraction first, then talk." Wilbur nodded, putting a disc in. Tommy sat down next to the older man, too tired to care about what it is.

When Up started playing, Tommy weakly smiled at Wilbur, who in return only pulled him close. About halfway through the movie, with Tommy wrapping his arms around Wilbur's middle, he began to mumble.

"I don't like parties." A hand gently carded through his hair, and he instinctively leaned into the touch.

"One of my friends dragged me there, and I wasn't having a good time 'cause everyone was horny and drunk an' shit. This girl she like- put a bunch of alcohol on a fan and turned it on- stained my shirt- ya know- and then I started crying in the bathroom when I called you- and- and-" Wilbur shushed him gently, a thumb swiping over the liquid building up in his eyes.

"I know, Toms."

Tommy buried his face in the older man's shirt, "It's been a shitty night."

A sigh, and then a pressure on his head before being removed again. "Go to sleep."

And so he drifted off, in the arms of his friend.


End file.
